


we could live like thieves (we could live like kings)

by Ethereally



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Humor, Ingrid Brandl Galatea Being a Glutton, Modern Era, Multi, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally
Summary: "We're supposed to wave this banner," Sylvain grins, holding up the blue cloth with a gold lion print, "And cheer on some guy named Loog. What kind of name is that?"(In another, simpler life, Felix and Sylvain take Ingrid to Medieval Times for her birthday.)
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 28
Kudos: 105





	we could live like thieves (we could live like kings)

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY INGRID I adore you SO MUCH

"Where are we going?" Ingrid asks as the three of them pile into Sylvain's Mini Cooper. She turns towards Sylvain in the driver's seat, before whirling around to face Felix in the back. "You could just tell me already, since we're on the way."

Sylvain laughs as he revs his car up. The engine makes the most obnoxious whirring noise. "Just sit back and relax for once, Ingrid. Don't you trust us?"

Felix leans forward to rest his face by Ingrid's seat. "I'm not sure she's given us much reason to." A rare smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and Ingrid has long since realized that this means the boys are conspiring. Sylvain gives her a wink as he begins to pull out of their parking space.

“I'll drop a hint: you're going to love it. Food is involved.”

Felix scoffs. “That's the worst hint possible. You could bring Ingrid to McDonald's for her birthday and she'd be happy. Feed her McNuggies and she'd be content with her Happy Meal and little plastic toy.”

Ingrid glares at Felix. “That's not true--” She is interrupted by a loud growl from her stomach, and Sylvain guffaws with triumph.

“Look, Ingrid, I've told you. You should start one of those YouTube channels where you eat a ton of food and people pay you for it.”

Ingrid groans. This isn't the first time that Sylvain has made this suggestion, and it certainly won't be the last. “Absolutely no-one would watch this channel.”

“I would,” Sylvain says, and his voice suddenly shifts from teasing to gentle. She shoots him a quizzical look, and he raises his hands in protest. “I've said it before and I'll say it again! It's weirdly soothing to watch you eat--”

Felix interjects mid-sentence. “Keep your hands on the goddamn wheel, Sylvain, or I'll push you out of the car and drive Ingrid there myself.”

Sylvain pouts. “Not fair, Fee. Whose side are you on?”

“The side that will get us to our _surprise destination_ safe and sound. What are you driving so fast for? We aren't in a rush.”

Ingrid ponders bringing up Felix's penchant for road rage, and how that means he isn't exactly the gold standard for road safety himself. She decides against it, instead grabbing Sylvain's phone and punching in the password (4-2-0-0-6-9). He's never told her the number code, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. She opens his Spotify app.

“I'm going to put on some music.”

“Let me guess. Taylor or Lorde again?” Felix asks, but _Green Light_ blares through the car, and Felix starts tapping his foot to the music. Ingrid beams as she begins to sing along to the tune, and Sylvain joins in, off-key. Their journey has barely begun, but Ingrid is practically buzzing with excitement.

Despite Felix's earlier concerns, they arrive safely at a parking lot near their destination. Ingrid steps out of the car, and Sylvain insists on covering Ingrid's eyes with his hands, claiming that it will “add to the suspense.” Felix laces her fingers in his, and the two boys begin to lead her towards the site of her surprise. 

It feels like they've been walking for years when Sylvain removes his palms from her face. Ingrid blinks as she takes her new surroundings in. They seem to be outside a... castle? People dressed in knightly armor dot the area, and a man wearing a velvet coat and a feather in his cap stands on a raised platform, strumming a lute. Her eyes fall upon a gold and black sign, and Ingrid gasps.

“Sylvain? Felix?”

Sylvain grins, clapping Ingrid on the back. “Welcome to Medieval Times!”

Ingrid pinches herself; nope, she isn't dreaming. She turns to gape at Felix. “I thought-- I thought you hated this kind of thing. You wouldn't even come to the Renn Faire with us until Sylvain pointed out that there would be swords there. W- what are we doing here?”

Felix shrugs. “Knightliness and chivalry's all a load of horseshit. But it's your birthday, not mine. Besides, Sylvain said it. Food's involved. So are swords. I'll be fine with a couple of drinks.” Felix has never been one to hide his feelings for someone else's sake, and the same smile from earlier appears on his sharp features. She feels her heart swell with excitement.

“Thank you,” she somehow manages to sputter out. “Really, thank you--”

“Now, now,” Sylvain says, lifting Ingrid's hand to his mouth and kissing it, “We've barely gotten started. Lady Ingrid, are you ready to have the night of your life... Or shall I say, the _knight_ of your life?”

Felix and Ingrid let out a simultaneous groan, but even Sylvain's terrible attempt at humor won't dampen her mood at this point. Ingrid practically bounds with glee towards the entrance of the castle, Sylvain and Felix keeping pace right behind her. She's about to get in line for general admission when Felix calls out to her. “Wrong line.”

“Excuse me?” Ingrid frowns.

Felix waves three printed sheets of paper at her. “We're using the priority entrance.”

Rationally, Ingrid knows that money is no object for either Sylvain or Felix. However, Ingrid can't help but feel her insides burst with gratitude regardless-- especially for Felix, who would probably never have wanted to come here by himself. She can only nod in response as Sylvain leads her to a separate entrance, taking her into a small room with a green screen and a photo booth. Two women in knightly regalia stand by the screen, and a third ushers Sylvain, Felix and Ingrid to join the knights behind the camera. Sylvain gently nudges Ingrid towards the middle of the photo, and he slings his arm around her waist; Felix wraps his arm around her shoulders. The photographer raises a hand.

"Hold on. They didn't give you your crowns?" 

Felix's jaw drops open, almost comically. "What crowns?"

The photographer beams back. "The crowns you'll need for the authentic Medieval Times experience. Give me a moment," she says, darting out of the room, quickly returning with three blue paper novelty crowns. She marches up to the three of them, placing a crown on Ingrid's head, and then Sylvain's; the wide-eyed look of abject horror Felix is wearing is absolutely priceless. Shaking, he takes the crown from the photographer, putting it on. She doesn't seem to notice his objection, walking back towards the camera. 

“Three... Two... One.... Say 'Medieval Times'!”

Ingrid can hear Felix mutter, “Fuck me,” under his breath, but the smiles on their faces when the souvenir photos are printed out seem fairly genuine. The muscles around Ingrid's mouth are starting to hurt with how widely she's grinning, but it's already been completely worth it.

The three of them are led into a separate room right after, with a bar and a bunch of souvenir kiosks. Felix immediately whips out his wallet, offering to buy the three of them a round of drinks, leaving Sylvain and Ingrid to browse the souvenir stands. Ingrid is pondering whether it's a waste of money to buy herself a bright gold 'Medieval Times' fridge magnet when Sylvain leans in to whisper in her ear.

“So I think we lost our boyfriend.”

“Uh-oh,” Ingrid says, stepping away from the kiosk. Back in their college days, this might have meant that Felix had gotten into a fistfight, but Ingrid trusts that he's calmed down a little now. “What makes you say that?”

Sylvain gives Ingrid a gentle nudge. “There,” he says, gesturing towards another souvenir booth that's selling rows and rows of blades, and Felix, bent over and staring at them, hands suspiciously free of alcohol. “I think we might have to get our own drinks. Can't get between Felix and his one true love.”

Ingrid snickers in response. She isn't quite certain how she ended up in a relationship with a weirdo with zero social skills, a sharp tongue, and a strange fixation with knives. Their long-standing friendship and the kindness buried under Felix's rough surface probably has something to do with it. (His years of _wushu_ training and the body that comes with it certainly help.)

Then again, it isn't as though she or Sylvain are easy to deal with themselves. Working out a romantic relationship between the three of them hadn't been easy. She'd started dating Sylvain after he'd begun to pull his life together in their junior year of college, and Felix had been a later addition to the dynamic after she and Sylvain had admitted to both crushing on him. It had taken them a while to work out the boundaries and areas of trust required to keep the relationship alive, and it hasn't always been easy, but in moments like this, Ingrid knows that it's completely worth it. She smiles to herself as Sylvain saunters towards the bar.

Who'd have thought that a three-way relationship between a jerk, a womanizer and a prude could work out the way it did?

Sylvain returns soon enough with two beers for his partners and a glass of white wine for himself. It's probably all he's having, given that he's designated driver for this excursion: a far cry from his irresponsible college days. He hands her a tankard, before walking over towards Felix and tapping him on the shoulder. Felix yowls like a startled cat, and Sylvain laughs.

“Babe, I got you while you were distracted,” he says. “Are you bringing home a new friend?”

“Call a knife a new _friend_ again and I'll stab you with one. Anyway, I was just looking. Did you--” he takes the remaining beer from Sylvain, sputtering, “I'll Venmo you for the drinks.”

Sylvain laughs. “You can't do that if you don't know how much it costs. Save the money,” he says, leaning in and kissing Felix on the cheek, “Buy a sword.”

“I do not need another sword,” Felix mutters. He already has the one for _wushu_ , and a graduation gift from his father tucked away in the back of their closet. Ingrid once caught Felix staring at it wistfully. Felix has never been one to collect items, claiming that sentimentality is a waste of energy, yet Ingrid has never met someone so secretly soft on the inside. (Once, when Felix was sick, she caught him crying over videos of kittens finding new homes. He blamed PMS, but Ingrid knows he hasn't had a period in a very long time.) 

Sylvain laughs, waggling his eyebrows in Felix's direction.

“We'll see how you feel about that after a couple more drinks.”

“Sure,” Felix takes a swig of his beer. “These swords are standard-issue. Tourist traps. Nothing worth spending my money on.”

Ingrid isn't quite sure how Felix can distinguish one kind of sword from another, but she's long since given up on trying to decipher him. Her attention turns towards the crowd flooding in from the general admission gates, and then towards a woman dressed in a crushed velvet dress and a tacky, bright gold crown. She stands on a stage holding a fake sword, with a young boy in plainclothes kneeling in front of her.

“Sylvain, Felix! Look, the kid is being knighted.”

The queen lets out a loud cheer, announcing that a “Sir Cyril Nevrand” has been admitted to the knights of the round table. Ingrid claps her hands with the rest of the crowd, cheering accordingly. The next person up is another child around Sir Cyril's age, and she is followed by another girl with large curls and bright green eyes. Ingrid can't help but stare at the ceremony, transfixed.

Sylvain is, of course, the one to jolt her from her thoughts.

“Thinking about getting knighted?”

“Maybe...” Ingrid feels her voice trail off. She knows how silly it will look, being the only adult to receive knighthood in a sea of children, especially considering that she should have left her knightly dreams behind a long time ago. Then again, does one ever really leave their childhood behind? Her naive ideals of chivalry and justice are principles that she still strives to uphold in her adult life. There isn't much she can change yet, working as a paper-pusher for a Democratic senator, but perhaps some day she might be able to truly defend the innocent. Just like a knight! She frowns. “I'd look pretty silly, wouldn't I?”

“Like a complete fool, but that shouldn't stop you.” Even when his tone is soft, Felix is blunt as ever. He has somehow torn himself away from the sword-seller, and rests his head on top of Ingrid's to watch the show. “Unlike the two of you, I actually read the sign. The ceremony is for children fourteen and under. Sylvain might have a shot.”

Sylvain scowls. “Hey!”

Ingrid laughs at the litany of protests falling from Sylvain's mouth-- how hurt he is, how he thought Felix loved him, how this is (quote, unquote) death by a thousand cuts. It's a little disappointing that she can't get knighted now, but this ceremony is for the children, and she shouldn't be taking away from that. Her disappointment fades swiftly when a wide pair of doors at the end of the room swing open, and an announcement booms through the hall.

“Lords and ladies with have priority seating, you may now enter the arena!”

Sylvain takes Ingrid by the hand, and she blushes despite herself. “That's us. Shall we, Lady Ingrid?”

Felix turns to look at the arena, then at the bar, then back towards Sylvain and Ingrid. “I'll get Ingrid and I another round.” Before Ingrid can say anything, Felix has slipped off into the crowd. Sylvain chuckles.

“You think he's going to do a shot before getting our drinks?”

Ingrid shakes her head. “I don't think they'd sell shots here.”

Sylvain drums his finger against his chin. “You're probably right. Can't have a drunk guy who loves swords a little too much wrecking a peaceful family outing.”

The idea of a drunken Felix somehow ruining Medieval Times for young children is simultaneously hilarious and horrifying. Sylvain and her enter the priority seating area, which isn't quite as flashy as she had imagined-- they're ushered into a row of small, cramped seats in the front of the stadium, with a sparsely decorated table in front of them. A menu and a blue banner lie on their assigned seats. 

Sylvain adjusts himself in the chair, pulling his legs in closer towards him. He used to make fun of her for being so much smaller than him, but looks like she's getting the last laugh. “It's to cheer our knight on. Apparently we've got some dude named Loog.” He makes a face. “What kind of name is that?”

Ingrid prods his arm. “Sylvain! It's rude to make fun of someone's name.” Sylvain shrugs.

“It's not like Loog is the actor's real name. Can you imagine? Mister Loog? Sir Loog? The Legendary Hero, King Loog of the Holy Kingdom of--”

Ingrid lets out a rather ungraceful snort. Loog _is_ a pretty silly name, much as she hates to admit it. The rest of the audience begins to file in, and Ingrid cranes her neck towards the entrance, squinting as she keeps an eye out for Felix. He's extremely attractive by her rather biased standards, but he's pretty nondescript compared to Sylvain. She's looking for a five-foot-eight man with glasses and dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, as opposed to a beefy six-foot-one radiating sunbeam of a human being. Finally, she spots Felix sauntering towards the two of them, their drinks in hand.

“What took you so long?”

"I had to get us something from the car," Felix mutters. He sets the drinks down on the table, and there's a flush on his cheeks that wasn't there before. He plops himself into the seat on Ingrid's other end. 

"What do you mean?"

Felix glances around furtively, before pulling out a black, opaque flask from the pocket of his jeans.

“Do not question me.” 

Sylvain snorts. “Holy shit.”

Felix hands the flask to Ingrid, and she takes a sip. The spicy, citrusy taste of good vodka trickles down her throat-- her favorite. She puts down the drink, frowning.

“Wait. Felix, don't you hate vodka?”

"Do _not_ question me." He takes another sip from the drink before making a face. There's the true answer to Ingrid's question. Sylvain laughs, taking the flask from Felix and giving it a whiff.

“This is the good shit. Wow, Felix, you must really love Ingrid.”

“You talk too much,” Felix snarls, swatting Sylvain away. They are interrupted by the loud fanfare of a trumpet, and an announcement blaring through the sound system announcing that the dinner and show is about to begin. Ingrid grips Sylvain excitedly, and her stomach rumbles once again. She's ready to stuff copious amounts of food in her mouth. A server dressed in a peasant outfit walks over towards the group of them, and he places a basket of garlic bread and three plates of tomato soup on the table. Ingrid and Felix practically dive at the food the moment he sets it down. She takes a bite of the bread, allowing the taste of basil and butter to spread across her tongue. Delicious.

“This is so good,” she mumbles, her mouth still full. “I could eat another ten baskets all by myself.”

“We know,” Felix says, though he's already polished off his first piece of bread and is going for another. He swirls the chunk of bread in his soup before stuffing it in his mouth whole. It dawns upon Ingrid that Felix is practicing one of her favorite arts: defensive eating, or "finishing your food quickly so that you get to eat more of it." She narrows her eyes. 

No pun intended, but Felix is toast.

There are two pieces of bread left in the basket. Ingrid grabs the next piece at top speed, stuffing it whole in her mouth as well. There's no time to waste by eating it with the soup. She can see that Sylvain is still working on his first slice of bread through the corner of his eye-- he's barely a contender. Good, less competition for her. She quickly chews the bread, washing it down with her beer. Last piece. She and Felix both reach for it, two sets of fingers curling around the tasty morsel at the same time.

Ingrid scowls. "Mine first!"

"Are you really trying to fight me on bread?" Felix asks, but he doesn't let go. Ingrid turns towards Sylvain, whose attention has been captured by the creamy tomato soup. 

"Tell him to let go!"

Felix hisses at the two of them. "This isn't your fight, Sylvain. Ingrid and I are going to settle this like adults." 

Sylvain leans back in his chair lazily, raising a brow at the two of them and putting his hands behind his head. "Who's acting like they're under fourteen now?" he grins. "Hate to say it, but give it up, Fee."

"Stay out of it," Felix mutters.

Sylvain shrugs. "Ingrid has insulted me much less than you today. Plus," he gives Felix a pointed glare. "It's her birthday." 

Ingrid never thought that she'd be in favor of Sylvain being petty, but she supposes it's okay if it works to her benefit. She sticks her tongue out at Felix, and he lets go of the bread, slumping in his seat, defeated. She happily pops the garlic bread into her mouth. 

Ah, the triumphant flavor of victory. 

Luckily for Felix, there's not enough time for her to rub it in his face before the lights in the arena dim to black. A spotlight flashes onto a parade of horses marching into the arena, decked out in the scarlet, blue, silver and gold shades of the different cheering sections. Their riders, dressed in long dresses and heavy armor, wave at the crowd. Ingrid sits up straight. 

"The show's starting!" 

A beautiful white Andalusian leads the dressage show, doing leaps and jumps across a series of obstacles with the guidance of its rider. Ingrid gasps in awe as a majestic stallion does a _levade_ , trotting on its hind legs before continuing to dance across the arena. They're telling a story about the queen and the knights, but Ingrid's attention is completely captured by the animals. When was the last time she'd seen so many horses in one place? The white and grey stallions prance across the arena, doing all manner of tricks she'd only seen on television and YouTube, and when they finish their act, she immediately gets up to give them a standing ovation. Sylvain also scrambles to his feet, and Felix begrudgingly joins them. 

"You looked like you were having fun."

Ingrid nods. She isn't crying yet, but there are tears forming in her eyes. "Did you see the part where the knight rode without using his hands? They must have such a close bond." 

Sylvain sighs wistfully. "God, I wish that was me." 

Felix immediately reaches out to whack the back of Sylvain's head, and Ingrid mutters a grateful "Thank you." 

The chicken dish arrives after the pre-show, served with a baked potato and a side of buttered corn. Ingrid sinks her teeth into the juicy, tender meat, washing it down with the last of her beer and a swig or two of the vodka. Her only complaint about the chicken is that she wants more. The baked potato could do with a little more salt, but considering how tasty everything else has been, Ingrid isn't about to complain. She ponders marching up to a staff member to ask how much a second helping might cost when the lights dim once again. Two knights dressed in scarlet and royal blue ride into the center of the arena, sitting on a beautiful pair of matching Quarter Horses. It's time for the jousting to begin! Sylvain grabs the banner, holding it above his head. "You guys ready?"

Ingrid responds with "Yeah!", while Felix takes another shot from the flask in response. The knights leap from their horses, picking their weapons of choice from a selection on the ground. Sylvain frowns. 

"How's he supposed to beat a chick with an axe using that measly sword?"

"A sword can easily best an axe," Felix says. 

Sylvain laughs. "You're biased. Oh shit, they're starting to go!" He pumps his fist into the air, yelling Loog's name at the top of his lungs. Ingrid joins in the cheering, and after a bit of jostling, Felix does too. The two knights lunge towards each other, steel clashing against steel in a great show of battle. They exchange blows for a few minutes before the red knight falls to the ground, and Loog brandishes his blade. Ingrid hoots and hollers as he holds the weapon close to the other knight's throat, threatening to finish her. 

Of course, Sylvain has to ruin the moment. "Is it just me, or is this kind of erotic?" 

Ingrid and Felix both turn to give him the evil eye. Sylvain raises his hands in protest. 

"I'm just saying!"

Ingrid folds her arms. "This is a family-friendly event, Sylvain. Loog would be ashamed of you." 

"Not so sure about that. Looks like he's going to do a murder." Loog brings the sword crashing down on the other knight, and the arena fades to darkness. A spotlight shines on Loog as his opponent is dragged off. He bows to the queen sitting in a box above the audience, and he throws his sword into the air, making it spin before catching it with his other hand. Ingrid yells. Even Felix is smiling. Sylvain leans in to whisper into Ingrid's ear. 

"How do you know that the red guy isn't actually dead?"

Ingrid pushes Sylvain away. "This is a family-friendly event." Two new riders enter the arena on horseback, bearing lances and wearing silver and gold. The horses charge at one another, and the sound of the trumpet marks the beginning of the joust; the knights swing their weapons, ready to do battle. Needless to say, Sylvain has more commentary to add.

"I'm just saying. Two guys, riding horses, waving their lances around... You can see where I'm going with this, right?"

Felix punches Sylvain in the arm, and he lets out a pathetic little yelp. 

Ingrid grins, "You deserved that." 

The dueling continues for a while longer, the two men making a great show out of the battle, and the crowd sitting in the gold and silver sections cheering just as loudly as Sylvain, Ingrid and Felix were. Finally, the gold knight wins, sending his opponent crashing onto the ground. The same thing happens where the spotlight shines on the victor, while his opponent is dragged away; two more knights decked out in blue and scarlet ride in right after. 

The show continues for a while longer, Sylvain continuing to make a combination of funny and inappropriate remarks while Felix and Ingrid take turns to chide him. Surprisingly enough, Felix's gaze has been largely transfixed on the jousting. Ingrid is pretty certain that he stands up a little straighter every time someone with a sword rides into battle. She gets on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss on his cheek. 

"Having fun?" she asks.

"It's fine," Felix mumbles, barely reacting to the kiss. If Ingrid could guess, it's because the red-clad knight in front of them is spinning two swords at once. "I don't dislike it." 

In Felix-speak, that means 'I'm having the time of my life'. His words send a warm, fuzzy feeling flooding through Ingrid's veins-- or perhaps it's the vodka finally catching up to her. 

The final victor takes a bow before riding out of the arena, and the waitstaff returns with plates of sweet sticky buns for dessert. Ingrid pops one into her mouth, and it's soft and chewy, with just the right amount of icing and cinnamon. Felix is gracious enough to shove his plate to Ingrid, muttering, "Eat this," and she tucks into his portion greedily once she's done with her own. She's going to have to work all this food off at the gym later. Though perhaps if Sylvain and Felix aren't too full (or too drunk, in Felix's case), she might be able to persuade them to bring her for second dessert after they're done. There's supposedly a small diner nearby that serves the fluffiest pancakes. 

The queen descends from where she was sitting once the food is served, waving at the audience and thanking them for coming to the show. A white Andalusian charges in, dancing in circles around her without a rider, and Ingrid lets out a sigh of delight. She'd dreamed of owning a horse when she was younger, but her family could never have afforded it. That's all a distant fantasy now. But moments like this bring Ingrid just that much closer to a different life-- another world where she gets to be a knight and ride a horse and fight for justice. It's childish of her, but she's always wanted to be the hero of the story. The stallion rushes out of the arena, and the queen clears her throat.

"Now, for some final announcements before the end of the night." 

Ingrid stares at Sylvain quizzically. "What kind of announcements could there be?" 

He shrugs, "No idea." There's a strange smile plastered on Sylvain's face that Ingrid can't quite decipher, but she supposes that it might be because of the horses. He used to play knights and princesses with her when they were children, after all, though he always did prefer to be the damsel in distress who just had to lie there, cry for help, and wait for someone else to do all the work in rescuing him. 

The queen's voice rings out once again, loud and clear. 

"Congratulations, Caspar, for doing so well in school. He's the top scholar in eight grade!" The crowd goes wild, cheering and whooping, until the squire next to the queen interjects. 

"And he's twenty-four years old."

The crowd bursts into laughter, but Ingrid tilts her head to one side, confused. "It's pretty mean to make fun of him..."

Sylvain places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's a joke. I don't think there's a twenty-four year old man here who's in the eighth grade. Or if there was, I don't think they'd be highlighting it." 

"Oh." Ingrid nods back in acknowledgement. The squire passes the queen another roll of parchment, and she continues to read the announcements. A newly engaged couple, a woman telling her wife she loves her, a twelve year old's birthday-- the notices are all punctuated by witty jabs from the squire, which send the crowd roaring. The queen seems unfazed by her squire's comments, and she gets to the final scroll. She glances at the parchment for a split second before addressing the audience.

"This will be read verbatim from the submitted text. To Dame Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Knight of the Round Table--" 

Ingrid sits up a little straighter, turning to Sylvain, then to Felix, then back to Sylvain again. 

"You didn't--" 

Neither of their expressions betray anything. Her heart swells with anticipation as the queen continues to read.

"Happy twenty-fourth birthday from your favorite boys. You've always been the knight of our dreams. Hope you enjoyed your grand adventure and the scrumptious feast, and we look forward to more quests with you." 

Ingrid bites her lip, unable to hold back the tears behind her eyes. Sylvain takes one of her hands in his, squeezing it, and Felix gently holds the other. The queen bows in a majestic exit, but Ingrid is far too emotional to process the end of the show; the warmth in her chest is so overwhelming she feels like she could burst. Sylvain cups Ingrid's face with his hands, pulling her closer towards him.

"We love you," he says. "My gallant savior!" 

"Something like that." Felix wraps his arms around Ingrid's back, pressing his face into her neck. He's still a rather fetching shade of crimson. "Sylvain... Sylvain wrote the note. Only he would have made an announcement so presumptuous." 

"Thank you," Ingrid manages to sputter out, "Thank you both." She swallows the lump in her throat. "This means so much... How am I going to top this for your birthdays?"

There's an easy segueway to a sex joke here, but even Sylvain doesn't ruin the moment. Instead, he leans in, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. When Ingrid pulls away Felix mutters, "my turn," crushing his mouth against hers as well-- he's so drunk that it's a little clumsy, but Ingrid doesn't mind. For a split second, she feels like she has conquered the world. 

Finally, Felix pulls away, pressing Ingrid's nose against his. 

"That's not important. Happy birthday, Ingrid."

**Author's Note:**

> me: i'm going to write a short fic for ingrid's birthday  
> over 5k words later: fuck
> 
> special thanks to EVERYONE who held my hand while i wrote this fic (kaylie, dima, lauren!), but especially to my favorite horse girl [orangevenus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangevenus) for forcing me to watch videos of horses with her for """"research"""". i never thought i would watch so many horse videos in my life. 
> 
> i've never been to a medieval times myself, and had to write half of this on a plane with no internet. most of what i wrote is based on reviews of the socal location, so i'm sorry for any inaccuracies! though after all our research shan wants to go now HAHA.
> 
> UPDATE: THERE'S [ART](https://twitter.com/shenyun5000/status/1281333347185078272)!!!!


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